


stars & stripes

by orphan_account



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coming Untouched, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-01 23:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam has a feeling Bucky isn't all that fond of his new uniform.





	stars & stripes

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a fill for day 5 of kinktober. For the prompt "clothes on".
> 
> Enjoy!

“It’s too tight,” Bucky muttered, resting his hands on his hips as he watched Sam flex and turn, showing off his suit for the others. 

The new team was a bit bare, with Steve retired and Stark and Romanoff gone. Thor had gone on a space adventure and that pretty much left the wizard, Scott the fanboy, the witch and Danvers. Danvers was okay. 

Bucky wasn’t really one for teams, having barely gotten to know the Commandos before his untimely “end”. But, Sam seemed to think it important they have resources -- _people_. He was always placing his faith in people. He was annoying that way. 

Carter bumped his hip, a smile on her face. “You sure you’re not just crabby because it looks good on him?” 

“What sense does that make?”

“Well, now other people are going to be admiring your boyfriend,” she teased.

Bucky frowned at her, crossing his arms. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just partners.” She nodded, an amused glint in her eye. “We just work together.”

“Whatever you say.” Her eyes widened a bit, drawing Bucky’s attention back to the group ahead. 

Sam had turned, the back of his suit coming into view. The red stripes along the back arched outward to make room for when his wings were attached. They cut a path straight down to his ass where the suit lovingly hugged the curve. So tight, it was clearly evident when he flexed and the muscle tensed. Mouth watering, Bucky’s face warmed as he watched a hand reach out to touch. 

Grumbling, he started forward quickly, jutting a finger out threateningly. “Lang! Hands where I can see ‘em!”

+

They didn’t work with the others often, thankfully.

No Thanos level threats and that was a relief. All Bucky remembered from his time being dead was how annoying it was that the last thing he saw before disappearing was the look on Sam’s face in Wakanda. That wonderous light in his eyes as he scanned the beautiful countryside and cursed the fact that he’d only come to prepare for war. The staunch regret Bucky felt when everything went sideways and he realized he’d never get to show Sam this place at sunset. 

Bucky hadn’t been thinking about revenge or past lives when he went – he was thinking about the future. Specifically, the one he’d missed out on. When he’d come back, he hadn’t remembered until he found Sam at the lake and saw that same softness to his face as he looked out at the water. 

Sharon wasn’t right, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. Sam wasn’t his boyfriend but at times, when they returned their apartment in Brooklyn, Bucky could almost imagine he was. 

They spent most of their time together. Sam made breakfast every morning, Bucky pretended he liked breakfast, they handled cases together, they ate lunch together, Bucky made dinner and Sam helped him clean up the kitchen. They rarely spent any time apart, aside from sleeping, and god help him, Bucky would rather not spend that time apart either. He kept looking over at Sam across the breakfast table, in the field, during debriefs, in the hall bathroom while they brushed their teeth – he kept looking over and expecting to feel annoyed or tired of having Sam in his space constantly. 

But it had been seven months and that feeling had never come. 

Now, Sam shuffled into the living room in a ratty old Air Force t-shirt, sweat pants hanging off his hips. It would be a relief from the ungodly tight Cap suit, except it just made him look all the more approachable and at home. It wouldn’t take much should Bucky decide to tug those pants down and rip that shirt to shreds. It didn’t seem to matter what Sam wore – all of it drove Bucky crazy. 

Sam slapped his hands together, rubbing them excitedly. “What’s for dinner, my man?”

Bucky shook his head, setting a plate of pasta down on the table. “One of these days, I’m going to say cereal.”

“Please,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. “That would require you leaving enough milk to share.”

“Not my fault,” Bucky muttered, sitting down. He tossed a napkin at Sam and slid a fork across the table. “You should buy more milk.”

“You should learn to share.” He dug in, taking a bite and chewing carefully. Tensing, Bucky waited a moment. Then Sam’s eyes closed, a soft moan escaping. Warming, Bucky bit his lip as he watched Sam chew and swallow his food. “This is amazing. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Shrugging, Bucky ignored the light flush to his cheeks as he replied, “Just something simple. Had to cook for myself when I was living in Romania.” Sam took another bite, chewing happily, his eyes bright. Bucky cleared his throat, shifting a bit. “Glad you like it.”

They ate in a comfortable silence for a moment, until Sam saw fit to ruin it. “So, you were a bit grumpy earlier. What was all that about?”

Bucky took a large bite pointedly, chewing slowly. Sam frowned at him. “Scott’s the most harmless guy in the word. He wouldn’t harm a fly. I think I mean that literally.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “He was handsy,” he muttered.

“He was checking out my suit. I think it’s pretty cool, don’t you think? The colors take some getting used to but, it fits well and sometimes, I actually think I can do this job.” His voice grew rough and he cleared his throat, focusing on his food. “When I’m wearing it, I mean.”

“You don’t need the suit to be good at the job.” Sam looked up at him, a guarded look in his eyes. “Just saying.”

Sam studied him for a long moment, the corners of his mouth turning down briefly. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever heard those words come out of Sam’s mouth.

+

The papers had latched onto the “New Captain America” like a dog with a bone. 

Some were rather skeptical, a couple downright bigoted, but quite a few were actually supportive. Sam was so damn likable that, anyone who secured an interview couldn’t help but write about him fondly. As a result, there were a few weeks where Bucky couldn’t pass a newsstand without seeing that damn uniform. Sam with his hands on his hips, posing proudly for the camera. Sam to the side, the shield in hand as he gazed up at the sky. Sam shirtless, the suit bunched at his waist as he grinned alluringly at the camera. 

That last one stopped Bucky in place, picking the magazine up with shaky hands. A woman nearby laughed nervously. “Oh, they’re still selling that issue? It was sold out everywhere else for three weeks straight. Pretty clear why, huh?” 

Bucky put the magazine back. He was sure that he did, but when he returned home, it had somehow followed him there. That night, the image popped in his head unbidden as his hand made its way beneath his waistband. He could see Sam’s face, the challenge in his eye, the strong muscles of his stomach tensed as he posed, the miles and miles of dark skin. The blue pants hugging him tight, the holsters hanging by his waist, perfect for Bucky’s grip. 

He spilled in seconds, Sam’s name on his tongue. 

+

It took a few days for Bucky to realize Sam was behaving strangely around him. 

Half the time, Bucky was so focused on making sure _he_ wasn’t behaving strangely, so it wasn’t easy to notice when Sam was. Every time they went out in the field, Sam was as in charge and focused as ever. Gave orders, made strategies, kept everyone in line when they worked with the others. He was professional – that was the problem.

No teasing remarks, little digs at Bucky’s surly temperament. He didn’t even make any bird puns. It was weird, to say the least. By the end of their last mission, Scott walked past Bucky with a curious frown, as if he knew it was Bucky’s fault. Then again, knowing his history, there was a very real chance that it was. 

He waited until they made it home to bring it up. 

Sam grabbed a glass from the cabinet and fixed himself a glass of water, the cowl pushed back around his shoulders. Tilting his head back, he took a long sip, a bead of water sliding down his chin and cutting a line down his throat. Swallowing, Bucky forced himself to focus, moving in closer. He stood at the counter, waiting for Sam to acknowledge him. 

Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re being weird.”

Sam laughed, setting the glass down and wiping his mouth. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.” When Bucky didn’t’ smile, he added, “Where is this coming from?”

“You don’t talk as much or make jokes like you used to. It’s weird. Everyone knows it’s weird.” He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at his arm. “They think it’s my fault.”

“I’m just trying to do a good job.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “You were. You were doing a great job.”

Scratching at his brow, Sam studied the counter, picking at it a bit. “Yeah and you’d know, right?” 

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m supposed to go out there and do this job next to the one guy who was there when the first Captain America came on the scene.” He met Bucky’s gaze, his eyes soft and hurt. “Same guy that has a problem with me wearing this suit.” 

Bucky’s mouth fell open in surprise, stumbling over his response as Sam continued on. “I guess it didn’t matter before because we were running around in my old flight suit and I had the shield but I was still the Falcon. But I get this suit and all the sudden, you can’t even look at me.”

Face burning, Bucky covered his face with a curse. “Sam, it’s not – it’s not what you think.” At Sam’s hesitance to look at him, he moved in closer, touching Sam’s hand. “I don’t hate the suit.”

“You just hate me wearing it.”

“No, I just,” he bit his lip, forcing the words out. “I like it a little too much.”

Sam frowned at him confusedly. “What does that mean?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “Every time I see you in it, I can’t concentrate because all I can think about is getting my hands on you.” Sam’s eyes widened, first in disbelief and then realization. “And then I can’t focus on doing my job because I’m thinking about bending you over the dining room table.”

Sam laughed, the sound washing over Bucky like a warm light. It had been entirely too long since he’d heard it. “You like the suit.”

Bucky reached out, tugging on the harness lightly. “I like the suit.”

Sam’s eyes glittered in the low light, a smile spread across his face. Pushing past his nerves, Bucky tugged on the harness with a bit more force, pulling Sam in closer. Their lips met in a soft press, Sam’s gloved hands coming up to touch his waist. Shivering, Bucky pressed him against the counter and took his tongue.

+

Bucky loved the suit. 

Spread out on the bed as Sam rode him, his hands gripping the harness tight as Sam sank down on his cock greedily. His head fell back, a grin on his face as used Bucky for his pleasure. He was beautiful like this, shameless and eager, taking Bucky further inside with each fall. The room filled with the sounds of hushed breaths and skin slapping against skin. 

Rolling his hips, Sam drew a low moan from Bucky’s lips, a soft laugh escaping. Stomach muscles rippled with every shift, rocking down as his cock slapped wetly against his belly. He hadn’t touched it, preferring to come just like this, with Bucky filling him up. He’d never been shy about how much he loved Bucky’s cock. 

He tugged harder on the harness, curving up and crushing their mouths together. Laughing breathlessly, Sam’s fingers twined in his hair as he sucked on his tongue, grinding down hard. He was close, his rhythm stuttering as Bucky pressed against that spot inside of him. Bucky liked to watch, pulled back as Sam sped up, his breath coming out in harsh pants. 

A soft keen escaped, needy little moans stifled as he bit his lip hard. He clamped down tight around Bucky’s cock, his hips slowing briefly as his cock pulsed and spilled across the red and white stripes of his suit. His hips working in smooth waves, tight heat keeping Bucky inside. Bucky followed after him in seconds, burying himself inside as he filled him messy and wet. Sam shuddered, more of his release spurting out, adding to the mess on his suit. 

Bucky tugged on the harness, pulling him into a messy kiss. Breathless and sated, Sam worked him lazily, rolling his hips. When he came to a stop, his hands cupped Bucky’s cheeks, kissing him gently. Pulling off, he pulled Bucky into a hug, laughing softly. 

“This isn’t what the suit was made for.”


End file.
